


if you love me, come clean

by orosea



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Letters, loosely based on the clytie myth LOOSELY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orosea/pseuds/orosea
Summary: In some way, Ed supposes, these are remnants of Trisha Elric.What he did not expect is that they are also pieces of Hohenheim. The box smells of pressed roses and perfume. He can’t mistake the loopy cursive.It is a box of love letters.





	if you love me, come clean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvantGardener](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvantGardener/gifts).



> idk how satisfied i am with this but i like the idea, its cute, i always wanted to do a love letter fic

Trisha Elric loves Hohenheim until the very last breath leaves her lungs. Until the moment she collapses out in that meadow.

The grass is cool underneath her fingertips as she wanes, the sun warm on her skin like the caress of lips. The blanket on the clothing line flutters in the wind, rippling gently like there is an ocean above her.

She feels like she is sinking into the underground, into the ocean, away from the sun that hangs so high in the sky. Golden like strands of hair that used to feel so soft underneath her palm and blazing like the lips that used to settle right above her collarbone.

Air wheezes out of her throat and she blinks languidly, once, twice, basking in sunlight before she goes. She feels the sinking sensation again, weight pushing into the blades of grass that tickle her skin.

The last thing she feels is the wind caressing her face as her head falls to the side, gentle like a lover’s touch. She tries not to think about Edward or Alphonse as she closes her eyes. They are strong like him. He will find a way back to them.

* * *

 Edward Elric finds it hard to believe there is a god.

Not when his mother is lying in a box six feet below him. Not when the sun is absurdly shining down on her tombstone. God doesn’t have the grace to give her rain today. There is no tears from anyone but Al and himself.

Pinako tries to get him to do anything but push his dinner around that night. It doesn’t work and Edward ends up resorting to tuning her out by listing out alchemy materials in his head. He wonders where his father could have put his notes.

Pinako is gentle, Alphonse is quiet, and Winry understands all too much. He doesn’t want to talk to any of them. He wants to talk to his mom. He wants her embrace, full of love and the smell of cinnamon. He wants those enthusiastic coos and praises that he was once so embarrassed of back.

He goes to his bedroom without eating that night but he’s not hungry anyway. His mind is whirring, thinking about ways to fix it. Like his mother promised that his father would do.

There is a knock at his door as lays in bed, curled under his blanket and listening to the cicadas sing outside.

He doesn’t tell Pinako to come in but she opens the door anyway and Ed is too tired to even turn over in bed. She sits in Al’s bed across from him so he doesn’t even have to, hands smoothing across a wooden box in her hands.

“I found this in her room. I think you should have it.” Edward almost grimaces. ‘Should’ have it. Not ‘she wanted you to have it.’ It serves to only remind him of how sudden her passing was.

Edward stays silent and Pinako seems to read the air because she leaves without probing him further.

It takes Edward at least another hour to gather the strength to even look at the box. And another thirty minutes to bring himself to even decide that he wanted to look at it.

It might have Hohenheim’s notes in it.

He thinks this, pretending it’s not an excuse to miss his mother and mourn her memory. The temptation to see any remnant of his mother tugs at his heartstrings even if it threatens to reopen fresh wounds.

The box is lighter than he would think. He briefly entertains what it could be. Jewelry? Money? Or something sentimental like pictures? He runs a finger over the clasp before pulling the tab up with his thumb.

It’s none of those. What lies in the box is yellowed parchment, obviously old and damaged despite being sealed for years.

In some way, Ed supposes, these are remnants of Trisha Elric.

What he did not expect is that they are also pieces of Hohenheim. The box smells of pressed roses and perfume. He can’t mistake the loopy cursive.

It is a box of love letters.

* * *

_Dear mother,_

_I think I met a man today._

_I know you didn’t want me to leave Resembool. but I assure you, the men in central are not so terrible. The man especially so. I know I sound like some charmed girl or that I grew up in the country and don’t know what I’m doing. But I think I might be both of those things, unabashedly so._

_He smiles at me like I’m special. I know you said it’s the oldest trick in the book. If it’s a trick, I’ve never met any man as sly as him. He tells me he’s never met anyone like me, yet he has this glint in his eye like he’s telling a joke._

_I feel dumb for being swayed like some swooning school girl. Although… he is handsome. I don’t think you would blame me if you saw him, mother. He has golden eyes and hair, almost like he could be Helios himself. His jaw is square and his shoulders are so strong… I’m rambling._

_I want you to meet him one day. I think you would like him. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be careful._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Mr. Van Hohenheim,_

_This is not what I envisioned when you said you wanted to get to know me better. I hardly think that leaving central so soon after we met would be good way to bond._

_I’m dangerously close to saying I miss you. Which is silly of course but the memory of that little cafe downtown is at the forefront of my mind. The reservations, the venue, it was all very… enchanting. You really pulled out all the stops._

_I still can’t believe that you knew the owner so well. Being so much older, you would think he would speak casually. He must really have a lot of respect for you for such formality._

_With endearment, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear_ **_Mr._ ** _Van Hohenheim,_

_I think I will call you mister if I please. I may be smitten, I begrudgingly admit, but I am still a lady. I happen to think it’s kind that you helped that man save his business, no reason to be bashful._

_I am eager for your return. I think you should make do on all of those promises. Specifically the star-lit dinner. It makes a lady wonder if you know any other successful business men._

_I assume I will be picking you up at the train station around noon next Friday?_

_With optimism, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_I regret that I didn’t tell you, quite terribly. I know you must feel betrayed. I feel like a hypocrite. I just didn’t want to ruin what time we did have together._

_My mother called it a ‘sordid love-affair’ and told me to return home immediately. I… didn’t obviously, she already controls too much of my life. Besides, the night was worth it._

_The romance, the tenderness, the… I’m getting off track._

_I don’t care what my mother says about us, I am grown and old enough to make my own decisions. I am only going back to Resembool because my father has fallen ill. I promise I will make my way back to Central as soon as possible._

_With longing, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_Please write back. I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I know what I did seemed cruel at the time but I need you. I thought these weeks would give you time._

_My father is fading. My mother makes everything worse. She keeps interrogating me about you and I am beginning to wonder if she even cares about father. Mrs. Rockbell is doing everything she can to help him._

_The stress is making me sick. Mrs. Rockbell says it’s normal that I would feel so pressured and that it would take a toll physically._

_I feel alone, Hohenheim. Surely you can understand that._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_I miss you too._

_I was beginning to fear you might not ever want to converse with me again. You might not want to after this letter. Although it is scary for me for me to even write this down, I think you deserve my honesty._

_I had figured that my father’s illness was taking a toll upon me. Possibly that I had even caught it. I asked Mrs. Rockbell for an evaluation. I… cannot even begin to imagine how to word this. I would much rather tell you in person but I cannot see myself travelling to Central anytime soon. Our romance had its consequences._

_You’re going to be a father._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_My father passed today._

_I’m trying my best to hold it together for the baby. Mrs. Rockbell has warned me not to over exert myself but it’s beginning to become a challenge. I think mother is suspecting me and I’m not sure I can handle much more scrutiny._

_I’m scared too._

_Hohenheim, I don’t know anything more about raising a child than you do. I just wish that you were here so we could do this together._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_You didn’t have to come. I wasn’t trying to derail this business plan you keep speaking so highly of. But I did appreciate it._

_I hope that you can clear your head away from my horrid mother. You’ll be a great father, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I know how sweet you are, considerate. I swear the baby even kicked as soon as your train departed._

_I don’t mind your travelling. I just wish I knew more about your job._

_P.S. Mrs. Rockbell thinks it’s a boy._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_I don’t understand why you don’t want him to have your last name. We agreed to name him after my father but I think some part of him to be a little bit of you too._

_We’re excited for your visit. Although I fear my mother will not be on her best behavior. It’s beginning to wear on me._

_With love, Trisha and baby Ed._

* * *

_Dear husband,_

_That feels so strange to write._

_It’s childish at this point to say it makes me giddy, right? It sure made my mother rage harder than flame of hell itself._

_She left me alone in the home. It feels empty, like the ghost of the family I used to have. I’m sort of glad she left. Is that bad?_

_Little Ed is not so much a miracle as he is a menace. My back and feet hurt at all times. I can’t even drink milk without getting queasy. I hope he’s much better when he’s finally out of me, as crude as that sounds._

_With love, your wife, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_What you said on your last visit troubled me. I want the truth. Not cryptic versions of the truth where you up and leave._

_I’ve been incredibly tolerant of your habits but I’m beginning to think that you’re lying to me. All of this nonsense about you being an old soul, it feels literal. Ed could be born any day now and I want his father here for it. His life._

_You said that the home didn’t have to feel like the ghost of a family, it could become the start of one._

_How can it become the start of one if you are not here? If you are not honest with me? Our son needs stability and father who is a good man._

_Are you in trouble? Is there something after you? You can tell me.  I refuse to believe you’re a bad man. It wasn’t in your eyes when we met that night._

_It wasn’t in your eyes when you felt Ed for the first time._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_Please write back, I need answers._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_I just need to know you’re safe._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_Edward was born._

_I’ve never seen a louder baby and I couldn’t stop myself from crying with him. He’s beautiful and more perfect than I imagined. Mothers really weren’t exaggerating when they gushed to me about their own miracles._

_I put his last name as Elric on the birth certificate despite how much it pained me. It’s what you wanted and I still don’t know why. Do you have enemies?_

_He’s a spitting image of you. From the tuft of golden hair to the matching eyes. My heart swelled with adoration the moment he was in my arms. Mrs. Rockbell said she’s never seen a baby with stronger lungs. I wonder if he got his strength from you._

_I wonder a lot of things about you._

_Please write back._

_With love, Trisha._

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_I know why you had to leave now. I just wish you didn’t have to so soon after meeting Ed. I swear I haven’t seen him cry so much since his own birth. I told you would be a good father._

_I don’t care if you’re not able to be a normal man. I just want you here with Ed and I. We can worry about your issues when the time comes._

_We miss you._

_Come home soon, Trisha._

* * *

The yellowed letters end there, with only a few more less wrinkled letters taking their place. He doesn’t know why none of his father’s letters in the box and Edward can only come to the conclusion that they are elsewhere.

Edward has long since tried to stop his sorrow and he pretends not to care that he’s crying. He rummages through box with his free hand, blinking away moisture from his eyes. There are other trinkets in there such as thin white ring and a brooch that presumably belonged to his grandmother.

His father’s letters are nowhere in sight and it makes Edward’s heart pang painfully. Hiccups lodging in throat mask the sound of the door opening again. Pinako must have heard him.

Edward feels a warm hand brush his back softly. He leans into the touch and wishes it were his mother. Alphonse is probably with Winry downstairs, basking in her companionship far more than Ed could. Edward, in some way, is glad he’s so young. That he can’t feel the sadness in these letters.

“Where are his letters?” Ed says fiercely despite his quivering. “Why should she have loved him in the first place? All these letter make her out to be is lonely.” 

“She was buried with Hohenheim’s letters.” Pinako replies as gently as she can. “But you should finish them, Ed.”

Edward turns back to the folded papers and wipes his eyes roughly. He hates his father. He almost wants to hate his mother. He didn't even come to the funeral and she wanted to be buried with his letters?

His mother must have been the most loving woman in the world to love a man like Hohenheim.

He turns back to the letters and breathes in deep.

* * *

_Dear Hohenheim,_

_I don’t know why you must leave again. It’s been nearly three months since I had to sit down and write a letter like this. I should have told you before I left but I was afraid that it would spur you on. Make you more desperate for a solution._

_I’m pregnant again. I know I cannot stop you from going to find mortality but please remember, you have a family waiting for you. I find it hopeless to worry about you in this fashion anymore but I just want you to promise me something._

_Promise me it will not consume your life. If it comes down to it, please choose us._

_I love you._

_Trisha._

* * *

  _Dear Trisha,_

_I would always choose you._

_I promise to you that I will find a way to be a real, safe family. I’m close. It could even be less than a year._

_When I go, it will be with you._

_Hohenheim._

* * *

What is written in his father’s scratchy handwriting blinds him with fury.

Why would his father be searching for mortality? It has to mean he does have notes on human transmutation somehwere. Yet, Trisha Elric is still dead. 

Edward crumples the last note in his hand despite Pinako’s sharp gasp. His father is a lying bastard and not even his mother’s unconditional love could have changed that.

He’s gone through this mourning with no one but the Rockbells and Al. He doesn’t need his father’s alchemy notes or his approval.

He can bring back his mother without his father’s help.

* * *

 Trisha Elric is buried in her favorite dress. It’s old and frayed, a ribbon around the waist that tapers down into the deep blue billowing skirts. It’s beautiful. He hair is shiny and brushed, her cheeks blushed and her face powdered. She clutches a bundle of parchment in her hands.

Her tombstone faces the sunrise.

Van Hohenheim embraces her as best he can as he passes. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
